Hope And Loneliness
by shockin'blueeyes
Summary: The first thought that crossed her mind when she saw her reflection after the Battle, instead of the possibility of becoming a werewolf every full moon, was that she would die alone, she'd never be loved. How could someone love a scarred girl ?


Written for Hogwarts online Forum, for the thread Madam Hooch's Quidditch Tryouts, with the prompts 'turn around', "stop fighting and listen to me for a second," "surprise," "oh wow," and "Thank you".

999 words... that was close...

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, sadly...

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When she was little, her mother told her a bedtime story about an ugly princess who married a beautiful prince, and how the force of their love made her beautiful. Her mother finished the story saying: 'You don't need love to be beautiful; you're as beautiful as it gets'. She always believed her mother, and she got the confirmation when a few years later boys started to tell her she was gorgeous. In her mind, she always despised the ugly princess, who needed something as strong as love to be beautiful. She didn't need anything to be more beautiful. She was as beautiful as it gets.

It wasn't that she didn't believe in love, in fact, her life revolved around finding love and be happy forever. That's why the first thought that crossed her mind when she saw her reflection after the Battle, instead of the possibility of becoming a werewolf every full moon, was that the ugly princess was a lucky girl. Despite her ugliness, she had found love and married: Lavender wouldn't have that luck. In the chaos that reigned after the war, if she was sure of one thing, was that she'd never be loved. How could anyone love her with her mangled face and her body criss-crossed by scars? She was as ugly as it gets, and it was confirmed when her own mother couldn't look her in the face.

She moved out of her parent's house, cut all ties with the people she knew and bought a small house near Fleur and Bill's cottage, the only place she could go to. Bill, who even if he was a Weasley, was nothing like Ron, was even more scarred than herself, but he at least got someone. For a while she had the wild hope that maybe she would find someone someday, until she learned Bill already knew Fleur when he got attacked, and therefore Fleur saw past the scars. To say she was disappointed was an understatement, and she even thought of not going back to Shell Cottage, but at the end she couldn't do it. They were too good with her. She was still resigned of dying alone, but at least she wouldn't be completely alone until it happened.

She met Charlie Weasley ten months after her first visit to Shell Cottage, and she met him in the last way she would have wanted to. She had been taking breakfast in her small kitchen when someone knocked on her door, and she froze. Nobody ever came to visit her. Through the window, she saw a mop of red hair, and wondered why Bill had come to her house. She was always the one to go to his house, never the other way around. However, when she opened the door, she didn't find Bill, but someone that strongly resembled him.

'Surprise' the man in her front step said.

'Who are you? I'm… I was not expecting anyone' she said, confused. At least the man hadn't cringed upon seeing her face.

'I'm Charlie Weasley, Bill sent me to pick you up'

'Pick me up?' she hadn't planned on going to Shell Cottage until that afternoon, not at eleven o'clock. That was a surprise. Suddenly remembering her manners, she stepped aside to let him pass.

'Thank you' he said, coming inside 'Yes, for the memorial. It starts at twelve, and everybody will be there' his words hit her with the force of a bomb. Memorial…? Everybody…? She felt fear starting to prick down her spine, and she was tempted to just crumble on the floor.

'No' she hadn't noticed she was starting to hyperventilate until he grabbed her by the shoulders to steady her. 'No, I…can't go… I- everybody will be there… I can't – I can't –My scars- I'm ugly…' she raised her voice, her mind fuzzy and desperate on getting away from him, from everybody.

'Stop fighting and listen to me for a second!' he said, gripping tighter her shoulders. She looked into his blue eyes and tried to get a grip on herself. 'Turn around' he said softly, and still trembling, she slowly turned around to face the mirror on her hall, his hands still on her shoulders.

When she looked in the mirror a bittersweet 'Oh wow' escaped her lips as she stared at the handsome man behind her, who had his hands on her shoulders, and she wondered why such a handsome man was wasting even one second in her company

'Lavender Brown' he solemnly said 'I've known you for barely a minute, but I do not think you're ugly.' She shook her head violently, tears prickling her eyes. He had to shut up, he was making her have false hope, and then he would be gone, and she would be all alone again.

'Stop, just stop. You're not making it better. I'm not going to the memorial, I will spare everyone the horror of seeing my scarred face.' She muttered, eyes downcast. Behind him, he sighed, and his hands turned her around again.

'Lavender, listen. Everybody's got scars, some visible, some no, but all those scars show is that you're a brave, brave woman, and believe me, you're not the worst out there. I've seen worse.' She bit her lip, trying not to acknowledge the tears rolling down her cheeks. 'So, you're gonna go out there and face the world, and no one's gonna say anything but good words to you, I'll make sure of that.' And he smiled at her, a simple, pure smile, free of all the pity that flooded most of the other people's faces when they looked at her.

It was a small gesture, but somehow it meant everything. Maybe she wasn't gonna die all alone, after all.

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